MARCH 19TH

POOR RICHARD'S ALMANACK

Late Children, early Orphans.

— Benjamin Franklin,1742

AMERICANREVOLUTION.ORG

Deborah Samson

When
the lapse of years shall have invested the period of the Revolution
with the coloring of poesy, and the novelist shall seek his materials
in the romance of American history, the heroism and deeds of
the subject of this notice will perhaps afford the ground-work
of a tragedy or a novel. Something of the latter sort has already
been constructed upon this foundation; a production, half tale,
half biography, entitled "The Female Review," published
in Massachusetts about the commencement of the present century.
I have not been able to find a copy; but have been told that
it was not in any measure reliable, and that the heroine had
repeatedly expressed her displeasure at the representation of
herself, which she "did not at all recognize." The
following facts respecting her I received from a lady who knew
her personally, and has often listened with thrilling interest
to the animated description given by herself of her exploits
and adventures.

Though not comparable, certainly, to the "prophetess
" in whom France triumphed -

- "The maid with helméd head,
Like a war-goddess, fair and terrible - "

for the dignity with which the zeal of a chivalrous
and superstitious age, and the wonderful success of her mission
invested her - it cannot be denied that this romantic girl exhibited
something of the same spirit with the lowly herdsmaid, who, amidst
the round of her humble duties, felt herself inspired with resolution
to go forth and do battle in her country's cause, exchanging
her peasant's garb for the mail, and the helmet, and the sword.
There is something moving and interesting in the aspect of the
enthusiasm fostered in her secret soul, struggling with obstructions
and depressions, and at length impelling her to the actual accomplishment
of what she had pondered in day-dreams; while the ignorance and
error mingled with this enthusiasm, should increase our sympathy
without diminishing the share of admiration we would bestow,
had it been evinced in a more becoming manner.

Several instances are mentioned in the history
of the war, in which female courage was displayed by actions
pertaining to the stronger sex. The resolution of Congress is
on record, in which honorable mention is made of the services
of Margaret Corbin. The story of the gunner's wife, who took
her husband's place when he was killed at the battle of Monmouth,
and did such execution that after the engagement she was rewarded
by a commission, has been often related ("Resolved - That
Margaret Corbin, wounded and disabled at the attack on Fort Washington,
while she heroically filled the post of her husband, who was
killed by her side serving a piece of artillery, do receive during
her natural life, or continuance of said disability, one-half
the monthly pay drawn by a soldier in service of these States;
and that she now receive out of public stores, one suit of clothes,
or value thereof in money." July, 1779.) And many examples
were there of matrons, who, having suffered incredibly from the
spoliations of the enemy, lost patience, and fought manfully
for the last loaf of bread, or the last bed-quilt for their children.
In the case before us, the isolation from ordinary domestic and
social ties favored the impulse that prompted to a course so
extraordinary.

Deborah Samson was the youngest child of poor
parents, who lived in the county of Plymouth, Massachusetts.
Their poverty, rendered hopeless by pernicious habits, was the
least of the evils suffered by the unfortunate children. Charity
interposed to rescue them from the effects of evil example; they
were removed from their parents, and placed in different families,
where a prospect was afforded of their receiving proper care
and instruction to fit them for maintaining themselves when arrived
at a suitable age. Deborah found a home in the house of a respectable
farmer, whose wife, a well-disposed woman, bestowed upon her
as much attention as is common in such cases. The friendless
and destitute girl was kindly treated, and provided with comfortable
food and clothing; but had no advantages of education. Her keen
feeling of this deprivation, and the efforts she made to repair
the deficiency, show her possession of a mind naturally superior,
and that judicious training might have fitted her to promote
in no insignificant degree the good of society. There was none
to teach her; but she seized every opportunity for acquiring
knowledge. She borrowed books from the children who passed the
house in which she lived on their way to and from school, and
persevered with untiring exertion in her private studies, till
she had learned to read tolerably well; but attempted no other
branch of scholarship, until, on the completion of her eighteenth
year, the law released her from her indentures.

Her first arrangement on becoming the mistress
of her own movements, was to secure herself the advantages of
instruction. The only way in which she could do this was by engaging
to work in the family of a farmer one half the time, in payment
for her board and lodging, and attending the common district
school in the neighborhood. Her improvement was rapid beyond
example. In a few months she had acquired more knowledge than
many of her schoolmates had done in years; and was by them regarded
as quite a prodigy of industry and attainment.

Meantime, the Revolutionary struggle had commenced.
The gloom that had accompanied the outburst of the storm hung
over the whole land; the news of the carnage on the plains of
Lexington, the sound of the cannon at Bunker Hill, had reached
every dwelling, and vibrated on the heart of every patriot in
New England. The zeal which had urged the men to quit their homes
for the battlefield, found its way to a female bosom; Deborah
felt as if she would shrink from no effort or sacrifice in the
cause which awakened all her enthusiasm. She entered with the
most lively interest into every plan for the relief of the army,
and bitterly regretted that as a woman she could do no more,
and that she had not the privilege of a man, of shedding her
blood for her country.

There is no reason to believe that any consideration
foreign to the purest patriotism impelled her to the resolution
of assuming male attire, and enlisting in the army. She could
have been actuated by no desire of gaining applause; for the
private manner in which she quitted her home and associates,
entrusting no one with her design, subjected her to surmises
of a painful nature; and the careful preservation of her secret
during the period of her military service exonerates her from
the least suspicion of having been urged to the step by an imprudent
attachment. It is very likely that her youthful imagination was
kindled by the rumor of brave deeds, and that her visions of
"the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless 'larum" were
colored richly by the hues of fancy. Curiosity to see and partake
of this varied war-life, the restlessness of a heart unsoiled
and solitary; the consuming of energies which had no object to
work upon, may have contributed to the forming of her determination.
It must be borne in mind, too, that she was restrained by no
consideration that could interfere with the project. Alone in
the world, there were few to inquire what had become of her,
and still fewer to care for her fate. She felt herself accountable
to no human being.

By keeping the district school for a summer
term, she had amassed the sum of twelve dollars. She purchased
a quantity of coarse fustian, and working at intervals when she
could be secure from observation, made up a suit of men's clothing;
each article, as it was finished, being hid in a stack of hay.
Having completed her preparations, she announced her intention
of going where she could obtain better wages for her labor. Her
new clothes, and such articles as she wished to take with her,
were tied in a bundle. The lonely girl departed; but went not
far, probably only to the shelter of the nearest wood, before
putting on the disguise she was so eager to assume. Although
not beautiful, her features were animated and pleasing, and her
figure, tall for a woman, was finely proportioned. As a man,
she might have been called handsome; her general appearance was
extremely prepossessing, and her manner calculated to inspire
confidence.

She now pursued her way to the American army,
where she presented herself, in October, 1778, as a young man
anxious to join his efforts to those of his countrymen in their
endeavors to oppose the common enemy. Her acquaintances, meanwhile,
supposed her engaged in service at a distance. Rumors of her
elopement with a British soldier, and even of her death, were
afterwards current in the neighborhood where she had resided;
but none were sufficiently interested to make such search for
her as might have led to a discovery.

Distrusting her own constancy, and resolute
to continue in the service, notwithstanding any change of her
inclination, she enlisted for the whole term of the war. She
was received and enrolled in the army by the name of Robert Shirtliffe.
She was one of the first volunteers in the company of Captain
Nathan Thayer of Medway, Massachusetts; and as the young recruit
appeared to have no home or connections, the Captain gave her
a home in his family until his company should be full, when they
were to join the main army.

We now find her performing the duties and
enduring the fatigues of military life. During the seven weeks
she passed in the family of Captain Thayer, She had time both
for experience and reflection; but in after years her constant
declaration was that she never for one moment repented or regretted
the step she had taken. Accustomed to labor from childhood, upon
the farm and in out-door employment, she had acquired unusual
vigor of constitution; her frame was robust, and of masculine
strength; and having thus gained a degree of hardihood, she was
enabled to acquire great expertness and precision in the manual
exercise, and to undergo what a female delicately nurtured would
have found it impossible to endure. Soon after they had joined
the company, the recruits were supplied with uniforms by a kind
of lottery. That drawn by Robert did not fit; but taking needle
and scissors, he soon altered it to suit him. To Mrs. Thayer's
expression of surprise at finding a young man so expert in using
the implements of feminine industry, the answer was that his
mother having no girl, he had been often obliged to practise
the seamstress's art.

While in the house of Captain Thayer, a young
girl visiting his wife was much in the society of Deborah, or
as she was then called, Robert. Coquettish by nature, and perhaps
priding herself on the conquest of the "blooming soldier,"
she suffered her growing partiality to be perceived. Robert on
his part felt a curiosity to learn by new experience how soon
a maiden's fancy might be won; and had no scruples in paying
attentions to one so volatile and fond of flirtation, with whom
it was not likely the impression would be lasting. This little
piece of romance gave some uneasiness to the worthy Mrs. Thayer,
who could not help observing that the liking of her fair visitor
for Robert was not fully reciprocated. She took an opportunity
of remonstrating with the young soldier, and showed what unhappiness
might be the consequence of such folly, and how unworthy it was
of a brave man to trifle with a girl's feelings. The caution
was taken in good part and it is not known that the "love
passage" was continued, though Robert received at parting
some tokens of remembrance, which were treasured as relics in
after years.

For three years our heroine appeared in the
character of a soldier, being part of the time employed as a
waiter in the family of Colonel Patterson. During this time,
and in both situations, her exemplary conduct, and the fidelity
with which her duties were performed, gained the approbation
and confidence of the officers. She was a volunteer in several
hazardous enterprises, and was twice wounded, the first time
by a sword cut on the left side of the head. Many were the adventures
she passed through; as she herself would often say, volumes,
might be filled with them. Sometimes placed unavoidably in circumstances
in which she feared detection, she nevertheless escaped without
the least suspicion being awakened among her comrades. The soldiers
were in the habit of calling her "Molly," in playful
allusion to her want of a beard; but not one of them ever dreamed
that the gallant youth fighting by their side was in reality
a female.

About four months after her first wound she
received another severe one, being shot through the shoulder.
Her first emotion when the ball entered she described to be a
sickening terror at the probability that her sex would be discovered.
She felt that death on the battlefield were preferable to the
shame that would overwhelm her, and ardently prayed that the
wound might close her earthly campaign. But, strange as it may
seem, she escaped this time also unsuspected; and soon recovering
her strength, was able again to take her place at the post of
duty, and in the deadly conflict. Her immunity was not, however,
destined long to continue - she was seized with a brain fever,
then prevalent among the soldiers. For the few days that reason
struggled against the disease, her sufferings were indescribable;
and most terrible of all was the dread lest consciousness should
desert her, and the secret she had guarded so carefully be revealed
to those around her. She was carried to the hospital, and there
could only ascribe her escape to the number of patients, and
the negligent manner in which they were attended.

Her case was considered a hopeless one, and
she perhaps received less attention on this account. One day
the physician of the hospital, inquiring "How is Robert?"
received from the nurse in attendance the answer "Poor Bob
is gone." The doctor went to the bed, and taking the hand
of the youth supposed dead, found that the pulse was still feebly
beating; attempting to place his hand on the heart, he perceived
that a bandage was fastened tightly round the breast. This was
removed, and to his utter astonishment he discovered a female
patient where he had least expected one!

This gentleman was Dr. Binney, of Philadelphia.
With a prudence, delicacy and generosity ever afterwards warmly
appreciated by the unfortunate sufferer, he said not a word of
his discovery, but paid her every attention, and provided every
comfort her perilous condition required. As soon as she could
be removed with safety, he had taken her to his own house, where
she could receive better care. His family wondered not a little
at the unusual interest manifested for the poor invalid soldier.

Here occurred another of those romances in
real life which in strangeness surpass fiction. The doctor had
a young and lovely niece, an heiress to considerable property,
whose compassionate feelings led her to join her uncle in bestowing
kindness on the friendless youth. Many censured the uncle's imprudence
in permitting them to be so much in each other's society, and
to take drives so frequently together. The doctor laughed to
himself at the warnings and hints he received, and thought how
foolish the censorious would feel when the truth should come
out. His knowledge, meanwhile, was buried in his own bosom, nor
shared even with the members of his family. The niece was allowed
to be as much with the invalid as suited her pleasure. Her gentle
heart was touched by the misfortunes she had contributed to alleviate;
the pale and melancholy soldier, for whose fate no one seemed
to care, who had no possession in the world save his sword, who
had suffered so much in the cause of liberty, became dear to
her. She saw his gratitude for the benefits and kindness received,
yet knew by intuition that he would never dare aspire to the
hand of one so gifted by fortune. In the confiding abandonment
of woman's love, the fair girl made known her attachment, and
offered to provide for the education of its object before marriage.
Deborah often declared that the moment in which she learned that
she had unwittingly gained the love of a being so guileless,
was fraught with the keenest anguish she ever experienced. In
return for the hospitality and tender care that had been lavished
upon her, she had inflicted pain upon one she would have died
to shield. Her former entanglement had caused no uneasiness,
but this was a heart of a different mould; no way of amends seemed
open, except confession of her real character, and to that, though
impelled by remorse and self-reproach, she could not bring herself.
She merely said to the generous girl, that they would meet again;
and though ardently desiring the possession of an education,
that she could not avail herself of the noble offer. Before her
departure the young lady pressed on her acceptance several articles
of needful clothing, such as in those times many of the soldiers
received from fair hands. All these were afterwards lost by the
upsetting of a boat, except the shirt and the vest Robert had
on at the time, which are still preserved as relics in the family.

Her health being now nearly restored, the
physician had a long conference with the commanding officer of
the company in which Robert had served, and this was followed
by an order to the youth to carry a letter to General Washington.

Her worst fears were now confirmed. From the
time of her removal into the doctor's family, she had cherished
a misgiving, which sometimes amounted almost to certainty, that
he had discovered her deception. In conversation with him she
anxiously watched his countenance, but not a word or look indicated
suspicion, and she had again flattered herself that she was safe
from detection. When the order came for her to deliver a letter
into the hands of the Commander-in-chief, she could no longer
deceive herself.

There remained no course but simple obedience.
When she presented herself for admission at the headquarters
of Washington, she trembled as she had never done before the
enemy's fire. Her heart sank within her; she strove in vain to
collect and compose herself, and overpowered with dread and uncertainty,
was ushered into the presence of the Chief. He noticed her extreme
agitation, and supposing it to proceed from diffidence, kindly
endeavored to re-assure her. He then bade her retire with an
attendant, who was directed to offer her some refreshment, while
he read the communication of which she had been the bearer.

Within a short time she was again summoned
into the presence of Washington. He said not a word, but handed
her in silence a discharge from the service, putting into her
hand at the same time a note containing a few brief words of
advice, and a sum of money sufficient to bear her expenses to
some place where she might find a home. The delicacy and forbearance
thus observed effected her sensibly. "How thankful"
- she has often said, "was I to that great and good man
who so kindly spared my feelings! He saw me ready to sink with
shame; one word from him at that moment would have crushed me
to the earth. But he spoke no word - and I blessed him for it."

After the termination of the war, she married
Benjamin Gannett, of Sharon. When Washington was President, she
received a letter inviting Robert Shirtliffe, or rather Mrs.
Gannett, to visit the seat of government. Congress was then in
session, and during her stay at the capital, a bill was passed
granting her a pension, in addition to certain lands, which she
was to receive as an acknowledgment for her services to the country
in a military capacity. She was invited to the houses of several
of the officers, and to parties given in the city; attentions
which manifested the high estimation in which she was there held.

In 1805 she was living in comfortable circumstances,
the wife of a respectable farmer, and the mother of three fine,
intelligent children, the eldest of whom was a youth of nineteen.
The Dedham Register, dated December, 1820, states that-during
the late session of the court, Mrs. Gannett had presented for
renewal her claims for services rendered the country as a Revolutionary
soldier. She was at that time about sixty-two; and is described
as possessing a clear understanding and general knowledge of
passing events, as being fluent in speech, delivering her sentiments
in correct language, with deliberate and measured accent; easy
in her deportment, affable in her manners, and robust and masculine
in her appearance. She was recognized on her appearance in court
by many persons belonging to the county, who were ready to testify
to her services. A brief notice added of the life of this extraordinary
woman was copied into many of the papers of the day, and appears
in Niles' " Principles and Acts of the Revolution."

It is but a few years since she passed from
the stage of human life. The career to which her patriotism urged
her cannot be commended as an example; but her exemplary conduct
after the first step will go far to plead her excuse.